Page 26 of Cocky Jerk

“What?”

“Dinner,” I repeat, firmer this time.

The way I see it, a woman doesn’t drag a bundle of fruit across Manhattan for no good reason. The moment she received the delivery she could’ve pulled a Judy and chucked the arrangement into the nearest trash can. Instead, she’s standing in my precinct, staring at me with those come fuck me eyes.

That’s gotta count for something.

“There’s this little Italian place on the corner, they make a mean meatball hero,” I continue, keeping my eyes pinned to hers as I give her hands a squeeze. “Or do you have something against meat too?”

Shaking her head, she tears her gaze away from me and pulls her hands free.

Fuck, please don’t let her be a vegetarian. That might kill me.

“I can’t,” she whispers as she lifts her hand and combs her fingers through her curls.

Damn, what I would give to do that.

Focus, Pirelli.

“I have to go,” she adds. “I shouldn’t have come here.” She tries to brush past me but my instincts kick into gear and I grab her wrist.

Fuck that.

“Tell me why,” I demand softly.

Sighing, she looks to the spot where my fingers touch her soft skin before her gaze wanders around the precinct, reminding me we have an audience, and judging by the expression on her face, it’s an unwelcome one. Her eyes slice back to mine.

“Because you’re a cop.”

Narrowing my eyes, I ask, “So?”

A frown ticks the corners of her lips drawing my attention to that perfect mouth.

“So, I don’t date cops,” she explains.

Well, it was perfect until those words came flying out of it. Of course she doesn’t date cops. Only criminals that have ridiculous names like Hound. Biting the inside of my cheek, I look away and cringe realizing my entire precinct just witnessed me getting shut down by a chick.

That kind of humiliation would be enough for any other man to tuck tail, but not me.

“Let’s do this outside.”

It’s not really a suggestion since I don’t give her a chance to debate. With a quick tip of my chin in Richie’s direction, I signal to him that I’m done for the day and take Antonia’s hand, escorting her out of the precinct. Once we hit the sidewalk, I release her hand and turn to face her.

She tucks her hair behind her ears and shakes her head.

“Look, it’s nothing personal, Marco.” She stops herself. “I mean, yesterday, I would’ve said otherwise, but then you showed up at my house with my license—”

I cut her off. “Just in time to make your boyfriend jealous.”

“I told you, Hound isn’t my boyfriend,” she snaps. Blowing out an exasperated breath, she cocks her head to the right. “What I’m trying to say is you’re not a bad guy. Yeah, you suck at first impressions, but you’re easy on the eyes…” her voice trails and she offers me a wink. It’s cute as fuck—so is the little smile teasing her lips. “Ok, really easy on the eyes,” she amends before continuing. “...and you sent me an edible fruit arrangement, which was really sweet, but you’re a cop!”

Sweet.

She thinks I’m sweet.

“Aww, you think I’m sweet,” I mock through gritted teeth. Taking a step closer, I touch a finger to her chin and force her eyes back to mine. Shaking my head, I continue, “I didn’t send you that fucking thing to be sweet, Antonia. I sent it because I can’t get you out of my fucking head. I sent it because I woke up this morning wondering what you taste like. What your body feels like. And fuck me, I couldn’t stop myself from imagining what sounds you might make when I make you come undone. When you’re writhing beneath me, begging for more.”

That perfect mouth of hers forms an O, and a gasp flies out.

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